|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 8
No rain could wet Bobby. Under his rough outer coat, that was
parted along the back as neatly as the thatch along a cottage
ridge-pole, was a dense, woolly fleece that defied wind and rain,
snow and sleet to penetrate. He could not know that nature had
not been as generous in protecting his master against the
weather. Although of a subarctic breed, fitted to live
shelterless if need be, and to earn his living by native wit,
Bobby had the beauty, the grace, and the charming manners of a
lady's pet. In a litter of prick-eared, wire-haired puppies Bobby
was a "sport."
It is said that some of the ships of the Spanish Armada,
with French poodles in the officers' cabins, were blown far north
and west, and broken up on the icy coasts of The Hebrides and
Skye. Some such crossing of his far-away ancestry, it would
seem, had given a greater length and a crisp wave to Bobby's
outer coat, dropped and silkily fringed his ears, and powdered
his useful, slate-gray color with silver frost. But he had the
hardiness and intelligence of the sturdier breed, and the
instinct of devotion to the working master. So he had turned from
a soft-hearted bit lassie of a mistress, and the cozy chimney
corner of the farm-house kitchen, and linked his fortunes with
this forlorn old laborer.
A grizzled, gnarled little man was Auld Jock, of tough fiber, but
worn out at last by fifty winters as a shepherd on the bleak
hills of Midlothian and Fife, and a dozen more in the low stables
and storm-buffeted garrets of Edinburgh. He had come into the
world unnoted in a shepherd's lonely cot. With little wit of mind
or skill of hand he had been a common tool, used by this master
and that for the roughest tasks, when needed, put aside, passed
on, and dropped out of mind. Nothing ever belonged to the man but
his scant earnings. Wifeless, cotless, bairnless, he had slept,
since early boyhood, under strange roofs, eaten the bread of the
hireling, and sat dumb at other men's firesides. If he had
another name it had been forgotten. In youth he was Jock; in age,
Auld Jock.
In his sixty-third summer there was a belated blooming in Auld
Jock's soul. Out of some miraculous caprice Bobby lavished on him
a riotous affection. Then up out of the man's subconscious memory
came words learned from the lips of a long-forgotten mother. They
were words not meant for little dogs at all, but for sweetheart,
wife and bairn. Auld Jock used them cautiously, fearing to be
overheard, for the matter was a subject of wonder and rough jest
at the farm. He used them when Bobby followed him at the
plow-tail or scampered over the heather with him behind the
flocks. He used them on the market-day journeyings, and on summer
nights, when the sea wind came sweetly from the broad Firth and
the two slept, like vagabonds, on a haycock under the stars. The
purest pleasure Auld Jock ever knew was the taking of a bright
farthing from his pocket to pay for Bobby's delectable bone in
Mr. Traill's place.
Given what was due him that morning and dismissed for the season
to find such work as he could in the city, Auld Jock did not
question the farmer's right to take Bobby "back hame." Besides,
what could he do with the noisy little rascal in an Edinburgh
lodging? But, duller of wit than usual, feeling very old and
lonely, and shaky on his legs, and dizzy in his head, Auld Jock
parted with Bobby and with his courage, together. With the
instinct of the dumb animal that suffers, he stumbled into the
foul nook and fell, almost at once, into a heavy sleep. Out of
that Bobby roused him but briefly.
Long before his master awoke, Bobby finished his series of
refreshing little naps, sat up, yawned, stretched his short,
shaggy legs, sniffed at Auld Jock experimentally, and trotted
around the bed of the cart on a tour of investigation. This
proving to be of small interest and no profit, he lay down again
beside his master, nose on paws, and waited Auld Jock's pleasure
patiently. A sweep of drenching rain brought the old man suddenly
to his feet and stumbling into the market place. The alert little
dog tumbled about him, barking ecstatically. The fever was gone
and Auld Jock's head quite clear; but in its place was a
weakness, an aching of the limbs, a weight on the chest, and a
great shivering.
Although the bell of St. Giles was just striking the hour of
five, it was already entirely dark. A lamp-lighter, with ladder
and torch, was setting a double line of gas jets to flaring along
the lofty parapets of the bridge. If the Grassmarket was a quarry
pit by day, on a night of storm it was the bottom of a
reservoir. The height of the walls was marked by a luminous crown
from many lights above the Castle head, and by a student's dim
candle, here and there, at a garret window. The huge bulk of the
bridge cast a shadow, velvet black, across the eastern half of
the market.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|